Fixing a Dent
by DarkestWolfx
Summary: Gordon had seen destruction, endured the hardship, but the recovery was equally as hard to face. Can be read as a follow up to 'Break Us in Two'. Spoilers for 'Up from the Depths' Part 2 (26/11/16).


You could read this as the follow up to _'Break Us in Two'_ if you would like. I think they go quite well together though I had no idea what Gordon-Four scenes we would receive from this episode.

* * *

He heaved a sigh.

Virgil's hand was resting heavily on his shoulder and he leaned his weight on Thunderbird Four's damaged and dented nose, the yellow paintwork scratched back to metallic grey, the sheen gone, the glowering appearance now only a mismatched wreckage. Still the ship was all holding him up, a crutch for the wounded, yet given by the equally injured.

Heartache really was a killer.

Brains was tinkering around beneath, his gazed locked on the genius in hope something might be able to click and return the spark of life so desperately lost, still yearned for. He didn't want to endure anymore losses in this family and strangely enough as it seemed to the outside world, these machines counted as _family_. They couldn't, however they did, to some extent make up for the missing figure of Jeff Tracy. They served as a reminder to each son individually and the connection bore by each of them to him through the ships could not be recreated or replaceable with anything else.

Something cluttered and Brains looked unsure and apologetic as he held up the pipework. Something in him shifted.

 _"What do you think?"_

 _"I think we have a l-lot of work to do."_

The extended tools barely gave him any solace; the very idea of having tools near his Thunderbird was atrocious considering the amount of damage you could do with the things intended to _fix_ dents. Though he was certain this wouldn't be as simple a road to walk as the one to fix a dent. The recovery was going to be as arduous to face as the destruction, though hopefully more productive and healing. Despite that, all he wanted right now was to shut his eyes and see Four completely returned when he reopened them.

He was glad Virgil was sticking around to help because he was barely any.

It didn't seem fair to poke and prod even if it would make things better. The tools were offensive enough, the damage was worse than that and his stomach wrenched each time he gazed upon it.

He felt the need to sit to avoid falling. The effect this day had on him was far more draining than he had expected when suiting up for what had seemed like a routine rescue. Then again, he should have known as the aquanaut he was, that you could never predict what lay in the depths or what may come up from them.

His hand ran across the damaged paintwork, his eyes tired and lidded as some of the paintwork crumbled beneath his touch, other parts nicking at the flesh on the extremity. The bumps served to remind him just how damaged the craft was. His mind was so unfocused as Virgil tapped away behind him, working to have the ship fixed, all spick and span as soon as was possible. He just felt unable to actually _do_ anything.

 _"Hex driver."_

He sighed once more, mindlessly picking up the tool at his foot, raising it towards Virgil's presumably outstretched hand. Virgil gripped it.

 _"Does this look like a hex driver?"_

He shifted his eye line to look at the silver hammer, Virgil's pitying yet questioning gaze returning his exhausted one. There was nothing he wanted more than for this to be a dream.

It was a welcome break to watch Alan and Scott beat down The Mechanic. He considered it revenge for Thunderbird Four and he'd plainly asked his brothers to obtain it. He'd have to thank the youngest and eldest for ensuring it. The loss of the TV-21 as a result just brought his elation back down to zero, reminding him also that Thunderbird Four wouldn't fix herself no matter how much he wished she could.

He had no problem in working to fix the ship he would just rather not have to be in that position. He'd felt sure he'd stretch to eating Grandma's cookies if that would lead to the quick fix solution.

Yet somehow the whole scenario had helped somehow. Virgil had found from somewhere words of encouragement and his own want to not disappointing dad left him with a wave of energy to repair the ship. With the two of them pulling out all the stops into the dark purpled night the craft had been straightened out, fixed to its original glory, paint redone to exact perfection and only the finishing touches remained by the time Scott informed them John had landed.

The elder led on as they finally left the hangar, but he strayed for one last look. Never did he think he could feel so much joy at seeing perfectly structured yellow. He smiled as he finally flicked the lights on in the knowledge all was well – or as well as it could be.

Thunderbird Four was well again, so was he. The fact the ship still lived and breathed gave some of that back to him. He hadn't slept but the usual boundless energy appeared to have returned from somewhere. He realised he knew that what that 'somewhere' was. It was a something.

A something he was incredibly glad to have.

 _'I fixed it, dad. Thanks for building it.'_


End file.
